


you forgive, you forget, but you never let go

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything's different, but some things never change. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Written in the half hour between William's tease tweet and the Riot Fest announcement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you forgive, you forget, but you never let go

“We’re not doing this by email,” Mike said as soon as Bill picked up the phone. “If we’re doing this, it’s in person.”

“So get on a plane.”

Mike glared at the phone for a minute. Some things never changed, and that tone of voice was one of them. “Maybe you could come out here.”

“Maybe.” He could hear Bill moving around, shuffling through papers or something. “Where’s Adam right now? He hasn’t answered the email.”

“He’s on tour.” It was still fucking weird to know Adam was more successful than any of them. And he owed it all to Justin goddamn Beiber. “He’ll answer it later.”

“Well, if he calls you instead, let me know?”

“If he calls _you_ , let _me_ know.”

“He won’t call me. He’ll email or text.”

Mike blinked. “For real?”

“Yeah, it’s… a thing. We talk in text-based mediums. I don’t know.”

Mike could hear the sting in that, but he didn’t pursue it. More proof of how he’d grown as a person out here on the coast. “I’ll let you know.”

“And I’ll let you know if I can make it out there.”

“To talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” Bill sounded puzzled. “What else would it be for?”

Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it go, counting to ten. “Bye, Bill. Talk soon.”

Some things _really_ never changed. But how they dealt with them could. Maybe. That was the hope, anyway.

And that was the word for what he was feeling, wasn’t it? He made himself stay still for a minute and turn the idea over in his head. Hope.

Huh.

**

Bill got a flight three days later, and was on Mike’s doorstep, frowning intensely at everything, by the time the hockey game started.

“Hawks,” Mike said urgently. “Sit down. There’s beer. We can’t talk until the end of the first period.”

Bill paused at the end of the couch, squinting at the screen. “You saw the Bulls last night?”

“Duh.” Mike shook his head. “Bullshit refs, right?”

“Such bullshit.” Bill wandered to the kitchen and Mike kept his eyes on the screen, forcing all of his thoughts of following down under his need to watch the Blackhawks do their thing.

Thank god for sports. Their great leveler since the beginning.

_”Can’t believe they let pussies like you even buy Bulls merch—“_

_The kid might only weigh ten pounds soaking wet but he hit like a motherfucker._

Mike blinked away the memories and watched Toews flick the puck into the net with casual ease. That was all a long time ago. It was going to be different now.

They had both promised. Promised Adam, promised themselves. Bill, presumably, promised Christine, who probably spontaneously developed an ulcer just _thinking_ about Mike coming back into their lives.

They had all done a lot of growing up over the past few years. A lot of things had changed.

They could do this.

**

By the end of the game they’d killed the full twelve-pack of beers plus one or two orphaned cans at the back of Mike’s fridge. Everything was blurry and warm. And the Hawks had won.

Bill laughed, swaying on his feet, and sat back down. “Yeah, we’ll clean this up in the morning.”

“Definitely.” Mike rubbed his face, closing his eyes against the way the ceiling was threatening to swirl. “Have to do our big talk in the morning, too, cause I can’t even think straight right now.”

“Do we really have to talk? I mean, I’m here. Isn’t that the same as saying yes?”

Mike opened one eye. “We have to talk.”

“About the details, hammering out the agreements, all of that shit. But the important stuff. That’s settled, right?” Bill stared at him, his eyes intense, and Mike _remembered_ this, remembered how it used to go through him like a knife.

It still did.

“Mike?” Bill raised his eyebrows and reached out to tap his fingers at the center of Mike’s chest. “It’s settled. We’re doing this. Right?”

Mike licked his lips and nodded. “Yes. You drunk motherfucker. You’re right.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “You’re the drunk motherfucker.”

“Yeah, _your_ mom.”

Bill giggled, actually giggled. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And there it was, the challenging edge, the spark between them; he remembered that, too. Even more like a knife. Only bigger, sharper. Maybe a sword.

What was it about Bill that made him think in penetration metaphors?

Bill smiled a little, his eyes narrowing. “I could make you.”

“Yeah, you probably could.”

“I know all of your soft spots. Your weaknesses.”

Mike shifted his weight, meaning to sit up, but he couldn’t quite manage it around the booze in his bloodstream. “Fuck you, I don’t have any weaknesses.”

“You do too. Everybody does.” Bill settled back against the couch a little, still looking at Mike intently. “You know all of mine, too, if that helps.”

“You know it helps.”

“Yeah.” Bill smiled again, triumphantly this time. “Because I know you.”

“Oh my god.” Mike forced himself all the way to an upright position; still seated, but upright. He could tell by the blood swirling in his head and trying to obey gravity. “I’m going to bed.”

“Mike?”

“What.”

“We’re really doing this.” Bill’s voice betrayed him, going rough and lower, and Mike remembered all the other times he’d heard that tone, the one that meant excitement and hope and absolutely no fear, because Bill never had any fear.

He was pretty sure he remembered Bill saying those exact same words, actually, in that voice, way back at the beginning of things.

“Yeah, dude.” He stood up slowly, catching his balance. “We are.”

Bill stood up a lot faster and easier than he had any right to, way faster than Mike could react. His hands came up and cupped Mike’s face, warm and solid, and he kissed him. There was more in that kiss than either of them could ever, ever say, even with all of Bill’s words and then some. There were so many years in it.

“It’s going to be different this time,” Bill said quietly, and Mike nodded, even as he felt the same well-remembered shiver of magic running up his spine.

Of course he was in. He had always been in.


End file.
